As it slips

Sticky floors with shuffling feet
Walkers adorned with tennis balls parade in my path
I am kind to the elderly

As I slip closer towards them

Today I was declared a member of the no-flow club
Not even 50 and I’m in menopause

My reproductive organs never had a chance
I learned a year ago

Endometriosis, tumors, irregular menstrual flows
All the signs were there since it all began

Never practiced safe sex, even before AIDS
And still no children

Could never afford a GYN
And the ones in the clinic, treated you like a side of beef

My experiences at being a woman are minimal
I have… had the working or semi-working parts
I understood the biology
But, I could never produce the prodigy.

Now I feel old age slipping upon me

I will die and no one will know I even took one breath

As it slips closer to me
I try not to fall into worthlessness

One ovary, 1/2 a fallopian tube
And one unused uterus,
Set out on the curb

So, what does that make me
Less of a woman? The old maid downstairs?

As it slips closer towards me
Like those shuffling feet in the walkers
My mind flushes with possibilities

That don’t belong to me.

DIH 4/22/2015


Between the Meds

What step comes next, between the meds
I awake, I take a pill
I eat, I take more pills

Now I have to fill the time, between the meds
Or rather pills

Waiting for the moment when the medications ‘click’
And I can function
Or at least cope.

Its noon,
Time for more pills.
Drink lots of water this time, to help them go down
Can’t dehydrate, makes things worse

Sip, sip, glug
no more pills

Between the meds
Filling time with thought and action
Ideas and people

Oh yeah, and doctor’s appointments

therapy, pdoc
That’s psychiatrist for short, if you don’t know

I’ve tried it the other way

You feel your mind torn from itself
Not in a spiritual way, but rather a bloody crash into madness

So much confusion, so much suffering and inner screams.

I can never go back to that, that’s not filling time
That’s not living

It’s a horror movie looped in time-lapse

It may seem like I’m just filling time and not living it
But without the pills,
I wouldn’t even have this option.


The March

When we join to march on Washington to end Stigma against the Mentally Ill

The turn out will probably be small

I will be there, my mother and hopefully a friend or two.


But CNN, NBC and ABC will probably have better things to do

As I said, the turn out will be small

Maybe a local paper or a blogger

But it won’t make international news,

No BBC World for this strut.


Because in their eyes and closed minds

There is “NO” story.


As for the Marchers,

None of us will have guns or planes or buses to crash into building and mountains

None of us will have shot up a school or post office within the past few days

Many of us will have medication and a water bottle to take them with,

Oh yeah and sunscreen, because some meds make you sensitive to sunlight

You can get dehydrated.


If we get a hundred of us to show up

I would be quite surprised.

It’s not because our numbers are few, oh no

We number in the millions.


If you look to your left

If you look to your right and smile

We are there, the mentally ill don’t wear a Scarlet MI on our foreheads

But we are present.


When the March on Washington to help end Stigma against the Mentally Ill happens

The turn out will be small,

Not because of the numbers,

Rather, because the backlash the next day, will be fierce


For the one Television Station that does show up will broadcast our faces and

Bob from accounting.


And the next day, he will return to work and he will no longer just be Bob

No longer the guy they chat up at the water cooler and play fantasy football with,

No longer the Aerosmith fan in the next cubical, or the one who makes office lunch runs on Wednesday

No longer the cute guy from accounting, with the daughter on the honor roll.

He won’t be Bob anymore…


Bob will become, the ticking bomb

In the eyes of his co-workers and employer

The nut job next door, to his neighbors who use to admire his lawn tending skills

The crazy used to carpool with the other guys, until the March on Washington

And they all saw his face with the sign, “I am Mentally Ill… Let’s do lunch”


For each Mentally Ill person who makes the headlines

There are tens of thousands, who never will.


We fear losing our jobs

We fear losing our friends and our families

We fear losing our lives we have worked on so hard,

Day after day too keep together

like anyone else, with one slight difference.


The therapy, the meds, the coping mechanisms

The private break downs and possible inpatient stays.

All designed to keep it together, and we do.


So, when we all join to battle Stigma

The few of us who have come

I guess we will be there for the Bob’s and Jane’s,

Who can’t attend, because of what they are afraid they will loose.


The Stigma is that strong, the prejudice, the persecution.

Like Blacks and Gays, who have had to fight for years to be seen, heard and counted

I wonder if we will ever get our March, or Stonewall Inn.


We have always been the family secret to me hidden away somewhere since the days of Ancient Rome.

And here it is, here we are today and no one is willing to march with us or for us.

To identify our struggle,


We fight everyday, just to have a life and bring home a paycheck

We seek out treatment and help, when sometimes no help is offered or available.

When we can’t afford our medication and we have to ration out what we have left, if any.


No March on Washington will take place

Because we fear that the love and admiration we may have now,

will turns to fear from our family and friends

Once the mask is taken off and we are labeled.


So the mentally ill won’t come.

The media will pass, Bob’s job is safe

And we will continue day to day

We survive and we do it damn well.

Because we are strong and because we can.



Underneath it all…

Underneath it all

If you flow


If you crash


If you rage, hold it in

destruction is not an option

There is a thin line, a pale skin covering a breaching whale

He pushes and nudges and pokes

But can’t break surface

I can not allow it to break surface

Everyday, I walk the street

Calmly blending with other forms

Breathing the air and enjoying its blessings

But I can feel it, and it scares me


I fear it as much as you do

It’s the reason you judge me and label me and ostracize me

The mad breaching whale underneath a thin membrane of medication

Med magic

Pharmaceutical protection from the mentally ill

And I am grateful for it

Because its nothing I can control

It has a will of its own

And there are times I will not remember its passing

So, underneath it all is a violent, turbulent sea

But I am safe, you are safe

As long as I remember and am aware of its existence

Underneath it all, I am fine.

DIH 01/04/2015


In no particular order films that reflect what it means/meant to be in HIGH SCHOOL. I’m not gonna add any links, just trust me Dahlia and WATCH THESE FILMS!

20 dives into teenage hell.


1. Heathers

2. Better Off Dead

3. Napoleon Dynamite

4. Mean Girls

5. Jaw Breaker

6. The Breakfast Club

7. Pretty in Pink

8. Juno

9. Ferris Beuller’s Day Off

10. Some Kind of Wonderful

11. Weird Science

12. To Sir With Love

13. Say Anything

14. Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure

15. Election

16. Rock and Roll High School

17. Accepted

18. The Perks of Being a Wallflower

19. Times Square

20. Clueless

and finally – CARRIE

Trying to figure it out.

Trying to figure it out

Something to find to make things worth the work

Something to have, to believe to extend my faith

Nothing in particular, nothing concrete

Just something…

Looking for reasons to exist exhausts my mind

Am I lying to myself?

Am I just a coward trying to dodge the eventual bullet

Or am I just afraid of living, loving and loneliness.

And so it continues, as I go into another day

Another week, another year.

Distractions from the emptiness I live and I feel

More pain, more distance, more fear

But I’m here.

At least for another year.